


things heart-shaped and not

by crossroadswrite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Developing Relationship, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, HAPPY VICMAS, M/M, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, birthday fic, im gonna give Victor EVERYTHING he wants and deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: Victor turns to accept it with a distracted thanks, meaning to pick it up and turn back to Makkachin, but then his eyes catch on his drink, and the adorable heart that has been drawn in the surface of it.“Yuuri!” he says, so absolutely delighted with how cute this is. “This is so cute! I didn’t know you knew how to make latte art.”Yuuri is still busying himself with preparing the rest of their breakfast, but even half-turned away Victor can see the pleased flush on his cheeks, how he seems to stand a little straighter, proud of himself, as if pleasing Victor would merit all that.(Or: 5 heart-shaped and 1 non-heart-shaped thing Yuuri gives Victor.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 111
Kudos: 785





	things heart-shaped and not

**Author's Note:**

> happy vicmas everyone, today we celebrate the birth of our lord and saviour victor nikiforov.
> 
> also here's a fun fact about this fic! i actually started writing this last year, and was deadset on finishing it for christmas last year but couldn't really do it so i put it aside. then during camp nano in july i decided to go ham and nyoom a bunch of projects so i fished this out of the waste bin and finished it! this has been ready since july but since there's a general wintery mood about it, and since i featured victor's birthday i figured waiting for christmas to post it would be more fun!
> 
> hope you enjoy it, happy holidays for those who celebrate it 💖

❤

Victor wakes up slowly, feeling pleasantly sore all over. A satisfied smile takes over his face when he remembers just why he feels like this. It still makes him feel a little giddy thinking about how _well_ last night had gone, completely blowing through every single one of his expectations.

Sleep is quick to vanish when he remembers last night, the culmination of months of tentative smiles, countless dates, and mutual pining. He’s eager to be awake again, to see _him_ again. Except when he reaches for the other side of the bed, and opens his eyes, his fingers curl around cold sheets and the only thing he finds is a crooked pillow.

He can’t really help but feel his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach, and immediately tries to tamp down the niggling voices of every single person that warned him that this exact thing would happen, that it was inevitable, that this was just how _he_ was, and that Victor was foolish to expect that someone with that kind of reputation would change for him.

But Victor had _hoped_ , foolishly, like he always does.

It’s no secret that Victor doesn’t have the best of luck with relationships. He trusts too much, and moves too fast, clings too tightly, but he had thought- he had thought that this was different. This _felt_ different.

But maybe that was just him projecting his hopes, his gut-deep wishes onto someone who didn’t seem to mind that Victor clung and trusted and pushed.

He doesn’t really feel like getting up now, but he pushes himself to, saving a last shard of hope under his sleeve on the off-chance he’s wrong, on the off-chance that maybe he’s somewhere in the apartment and Victor was just jumping to conclusions, which becomes less and less likely as he slowly makes the full loop through the small apartment.

All he finds is Makkachin sleeping on the couch where he had been relegated too, because Victor absolutely refused to have his dog in his room while he was having sex.

He passes by him and scratches at his ears a little, but Makkachin doesn’t even stir, so Victor lets him be and goes to the bathroom, to clean up a little bit, his good mood having evaporated.

He washes his face mechanically, and somewhere in the process gets caught looking at himself in the mirror, eyes magnetized by the collection of bruises in his pectoral- love bites that Victor vividly remembers getting. He knows there are more littered throughout his body, but these catch his attention because of how purposeful they had been placed, so they would form a heart around Victor’s nipple and that- that’s just not something you do with a booty call, is it?

Victor grips the sink and tries to get a hold of himself. This is on him for being so foolish, for expecting so much when he had heard so many bad things, for-

His doorbell rings, slicing through his downward spiraling train of thought, and it’s a little ridiculous how he races to get to it, that stupid, stupid silver of hope still hiding somewhere in the crevice of his ribs.

He skids to a stop in front of the intercom set up beside his door. His building is new and expensive enough that there’s a video feed of the downstairs entryway, and there he is- there _he is_ , looking like a wet puppy and staring up at the camera.

“Victor,” he says, his voice coming across static-y through the speaker, “can you buzz me in? I got us breakfast.” He punctuates his sentence by lifting up a grocery store bag in one hand, and presenting it like an offering towards the camera.

Victor presses the button to unlock the front door so hard that he hurts his finger a little.

He watches him step through the doorway and move towards the elevator, and Victor feels like it’ll take an eternity for him to get up here. He throws his door open so vigorously it blows a breeze into his apartment, at which point he realizes he’s completely naked and slams the door closed again, tripping himself on his way to his room in search of some pants at the very least.

He picks up a shirt, and considers it for a second, and then decides to throw it back in the drawer, just in time for there to be a knock on the door.

Victor rushes to open, stubbing his toe against a piece of furniture and hopping his way to the front door.

He throws it back open, with an absolutely delighted, “Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s mouth is half open, words ready on his tongue, but as soon as he sees Victor, he seems to have forgotten what he was about to say and smiles instead. “Hi,” he says, voice soft, as he takes a step into the apartment.

And because Victor is really terrible at impulse control, he wraps his arms around Yuuri, feeling so incredibly relieved.

“Victor! You’re going to get your clothes wet!” Yuuri says, but doesn’t push Victor away, goes as far as wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing a little.

Victor lets himself hold him for a little bit until the voice that screams at him that he’s being too much overwhelms his need for reassurance, and he pulls back.

“Yuuri, you’re drenched!”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, sounding a little amused, as if he thinks Victor is only figuring that out now.

“You should take a shower and change your clothes, you’re going to catch a cold!” Victor says, switching gears, taking the shopping bag from Yuuri’s grasp, and then gently pushing him towards the bathroom.

He doesn’t think much about it before he starts stripping Yuuri. Until he’s about to pull Yuuri’s underwear down and Yuuri wraps his fingers around his wrists, and Victor realizes that he didn’t even ask permission, and that Yuuri might not be comfortable with Victor just stripping him like they’ve been together for months, and didn’t just start tentatively dating and-

“Join me?” Yuuri asks.

And maybe Yuuri just wants to catch Victor’s attention to ask him if they’re going to shower together.

Victor’s shower is not made for two people, and he gives it a critical side-eye, before he turns his gaze back to Yuuri and says, “Of course.”

Yuuri smiles at him and lets go of his wrists.

They make it work.

❤❤

“Did you miss me that much, I was just gone for twenty minutes,” Yuuri laughs when he keeps bumping into Victor in Victor’s tiny, tiny kitchen. Between Victor and Makkachin following Yuuri around like puppies, Yuuri doesn’t have a lot of space to move.

He doesn’t seem annoyed, and Victor adores him for it.

“Yes,” Victor says, completely seriously, and Yuuri’s laugh falters a little bit.

“Vitya?” he asks, brow furrowing, and grabbing one of Victor’s hands to keep him there when it looks like he’s about to pull back.

“Ah, you were gone, so I thought…” he trails off.

Yuuri grimaces a little. “Sorry,” he says, and brings Victor’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. “I should’ve left a note. Didn’t want to wake you up.”

It says a lot about how self-aware Yuuri has of his own reputation around campus that he immediately knows what Victor had been thinking.

Victor’s heard all sorts of things about Yuuri, mainly how he’s a hit it and quit it kind of guy. How he’ll go home with people at parties and climb out of their window before they wake up. They haven’t really talked about it directly. Victor didn’t want to push, but one of Yuuri’s best friends had given Victor a terrifying shovel talk, and told him that all of that was exaggerated and completely based on things Yuuri had done as a first year in college when he had maybe relied a little too heavily on liquid courage to settle his nerves, and it had worked a little too well.

Victor should’ve know that his Yuuri – the Yuuri standing in front of him right now, the Yuuri who’s in his last year of college – is nothing like that anymore, even if the rumors cling to him still. But well, Victor didn’t have the best track record with men, so it was easy to jump to conclusions.

Yuuri kisses his knuckles again, and then takes advantage of the hold he has around Victor’s hand to guide him around the counter so he’ll sit on one of the kitchen stools on the other side, and Victor lets himself be guided.

“I’ll make you breakfast. Sit.”

“I do have food in the house, you know?” Victor tells him.

“You have thirteen kinds of spices, and two bottles of expensive wine, but no milk, or butter, or even _eggs._ ”

“That’s fair,” Victor concedes. When Victor dedicates himself to cooking he _dedicates_ himself to cooking and always spends four hours in the kitchen making something overcomplicated to keep his hands busy. Otherwise, he’ll eat out. His mothers worry a lot, and by a lot, Victor means his food budget is higher than his tuition. He could eat at Tokyo’s most expensive restaurant once a week, and still have plenty to spend it grocery shopping.

Is it unnecessary? Yes. Will they stop if asked? No.

Yuuri starts moving about the kitchen, and Victor sits and watches with his head resting on his hands. Victor likes watching Yuuri just existing, he likes cataloging all the different ways in which he’s devastatingly beautiful, all his little ticks and habits.

“Are you sure, you don’t want any help?”

“I’m sure.”

Victor doesn’t move an inch, eyeing Yuuri’s bicep in Victor’s oversized t-shirt as he spreads butter around the pan. He looks entirely comfortable in Victor’s space, and there’s a softness around him that makes Victor want to melt into a puddle. His shoulders are relaxed, and there’s a peaceful expression on his face, none of the worried wrinkles and anxious creases that Victor has seen so often.

His hair looks soft and Victor knows it is because he spent ten minutes after their shower drying it gently with a towel while Yuuri sat with his back to him on Victor’s bed, and had let Victor comb through it with his fingers to try to coax it into any kind of tamed.

Makkachin, after realizing he isn’t getting any pets from Yuuri, comes over to Victor’s side and puts a paw up on his thigh. Victor scratches him behind the ears indulgently, cooing at him softly, because it’s what Makkachin deserves. He occupies himself with showering praise over his dog and making sure he knows how much Victor loves him, absent-mindedly keeping an ear on what Yuuri is doing, glancing over every so often to make sure he really doesn’t need any help.

He ears something hitting the pan, and he hears Yuuri pouring something into a mug, before sliding it towards Victor.

Victor turns to accept it with a distracted thanks, meaning to pick it up and turn back to Makkachin, but then his eyes catch on his drink, and the _adorable_ heart that has been drawn in the surface of it.

“Yuuri!” he says, so absolutely delighted with how cute this is. “This is so cute! I didn’t know you knew how to make latte art.”

Yuuri is still busying himself with preparing the rest of their breakfast, but even half-turned away Victor can see the pleased flush on his cheeks, how he seems to stand a little straighter, _proud_ of himself, as if pleasing Victor would merit all that.

“Only hearts,” Yuuri says, and his voice is still proud but there’s a tint of bashfulness to it, because if Yuuri is anything, it’s unsure of himself, even in the face of Victor’s obvious delight. “I had a friend who worked as a barista for a while, so she taught me.”

“Could you teach me?” Victor asks.

“Sure, let me finish this first,” Yuuri says, looking happy that Victor is showing this much interest. And Victor’s happy to make him happy.

Yuuri finishes their omelets and sets them aside on a plate, before he beckons Victor over and attempts to teach him how to make a heart in a coffee cup.

They spend the best part of the morning like that, slowly making their way through the omelets and the fruit Yuuri had bought, filling different coffee cups as Victor tries to get the hang of it. Until Makkachin whines to be let out, and then they’re both bundling up to face the February chill to take him for a walk.

❤❤❤

Victor and Yuuri have a study date scheduled for later today, and Victor is looking forward to it more than he should considering study dates with Yuuri imply _actually_ studying. Which Victor doesn’t mind much, but also sitting still and focusing on one single thing for more than fourty minutes makes him feel like he’s dying a very slow and painful dead, so.

He finds Yuuri tucked away in the back of the library, with his thick winter jacket on, even though the inside of the library is so warm Victor’s regretting putting on an undershirt.

Victor frowns. He doesn’t know Yuuri to be a particular cold person.

He approaches him, and because they’re in the library and he doesn’t want to make much noise, he touches Yuuri’s shoulder to catch his attention and whispers, “Hi.”

Yuuri turns to him, eyes red-rimmed and face mask pulled up over his mouth. “Hi,” he says, voice croaky and awful sounding.

Victor runs a hand through Yuuri’s hair, and it’s sweat slicked.

“How’re you doing?” he asks, putting his hand to Yuuri’s forehead with a frown. He feels warm.

“Fine,” Yuuri says. “Almost done with reviewing the first part.”

He sounds so miserable and looks so miserable, and Victor’s heart clenches because no. Absolutely not.

“Okay, we’re going home.”

Yuuri frowns up at him, adorably confused. “Do you not want to study?”

“Yuuri, darling, you’re sick.”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri says, a little too quickly.

“Are you?” Victor asks. “Wouldn’t you feel better at home with Makkachin and some tea?”

It says a lot about just how miserable Yuuri must be that instead of a resounding no, he hesitates.

“I…” he trails off, and then seems to renew his resolve and says, “You can’t focus at home,” as if that is a good excuse for anything at all. Victor can barely focus anywhere.

“I’ll focus if you’re with me,” Victor says, tugging Yuuri up a little bit, and Yuuri stands willingly.

“Liar,” Yuuri coughs out, but starts helping Victor pick up his things and put them in his bag. He only protests when Victor shoulders his backpack and starts leading him to the exit. “I can carry my own things. I carried them in.”

“And now you have me to carry them out for you, aren’t I a great boyfriend?” Victor asks, giving Yuuri a little teasing smile.

“You are,” Yuuri says readily, and Victor immediately drops the teasing smile and feels like melting. “But I can still carry my things.”

Yuuri is lethal. How can Victor ever counter that? He can’t. Yuuri went straight for his heart, and it’s beating double tempo trying to escape his grasp.

“Please, let me do this for you?” he tries, looking down at him as earnestly as he can.

Yuuri sighs and leans into Victor, pulling his mask a little over his reddened cheeks. “Alright.”

Victor counts that as a win, and keeps Yuuri close by as he leads him back home. To his apartment, he reminds himself. Even if with how much time Yuuri spends there, it feels more like theirs than anything.

As soon as they’re through the door, Makkachin jumps on them and they get held up in the doorway for a minute giving him a little bit of attention so he will grant them passage into the apartment. He has to coax Yuuri into taking a shower, so he won’t feel as sweaty, and sets out a warm set of pajamas out for him to dress.

They’re Yuuri’s. Victor bought them specifically for him, because he tends to get cold in his sleep and it might or might not be the fault of Victor’s cold feet. He keeps them here, because, well, Yuuri sleeps here a lot, and he wants him to be comfortable when he’s over.

While Yuuri showers, Victor makes some tea, and takes a bit of time to rearrange his living room, pulling the coffee table a little closer to the couch and pulling down the couch pillows onto the floor.

He’s pulling out extra blankets from the hall closet when Yuuri gets out of the shower, wearing his pajamas, hair still a little wet. Victor clicks his tongue and unfolds one of the blankets in his arms, draping it over Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Go sit down in the living room?” he suggests gently. “Your stuff is next to the couch, I’ll get the hair dryer.”

He turns to leave, and is stopped when Yuuri curls his hand on his shirt and holds him in place. Victor sways towards Yuuri a little when he pulls him closer.

“Thanks,” Yuuri says, “For taking care of me.”

“It’s my privilege to take care of you,” Victor says back, and Yuuri pulls that little face he always pulls when Victor says something like this. Like he’s embarrassed but at the same time loves it. It’s an expression Victor holds very dear to his heart and tries to pull forward every chance he gets.

He leans over for a kiss, and finds his path firmly blocked by Yuuri’s hand.

“I’m sick,” he says as a way of explanation, and Victor’s about to protest, when Yuuri leans up a little and kisses the back of his hand where it’s still covering Victor’s mouth. Then he drops his hand and adjusts the blanket around his shoulders.

Victor stands there looking at him with a goofy smile, because his Yuuri is _so sweet_ to him. He can’t believe he ever for even a breath of a second believed that he was any type of player.

Yuuri shifts a little, before he takes the blankets from Victor’s arms, and says, “I’ll carry these. Get the hairdryer?”

“Of course,” he says, and he knows he sounds smitten, but does he care? No. He goes to get the hair dryer and meets Yuuri back in the living room.

Yuuri already poured himself some tea and opened up his notes and laptop on the coffee table, having buried himself under two other blankets.

His hair is still a little drippy, so Victor plugs in the hair dryer and sits behind him on the couch to dry it. He loves playing with Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri seems to enjoy it too, if the way he drops his notebook and leans back to let Victor have better access, seeming to melt a little, is any indication.

Unfortunately there’s only so much hair drying Victor can do without making Yuuri’s head dangerously hot and without burning his fingers, so he turns it off and sets it aside.

“Is the tea making you feel better?” He asks.

Yuuri leans back, resting his head against Victor’s crossed legs and looking at him upside down, “Yeah, I think so,” he says, and because Victor can’t help it he leans down and kisses his forehead.

“I’m glad,” Victor says, and climbs down from the couch to sit down on the floor next to Yuuri, getting ready to settle down and plow through the book he needs to read for one of his classes.

He lays down on with his head on Yuuri’s lap, because invariably, Yuuri always takes the chance to run his hand through Victor’s hair, which somehow helps him focus, and flips through the book until he finds the page marked with a receipt.

He manages to get about fifty pages red, before his focus starts drifting, and he feels the need to get up and find a distraction for a little while.

“Want me to get you more tea?”

“Yes, please,” Yuuri says.

“Pass me my bookmark,” Victor requests, and Yuuri passes a slip of paper into his hands, but instead of the receipt Victor expected it’s a piece of Yuuri’s notebook, folded into a neat heart, and in the center carefully written in Cyrillic is _for my dear heart, Vitya._

Victor feels like he could burst. He looks up at Yuuri, who is very studiously not looking at him, cheeks still flushed, and he absolutely can’t help himself. He props himself up and reaches until he can touch his lips to Yuuri’s.

“You’re going to get sick,” Yuuri tells him.

“I don’t care,” Victor says, and drops another kiss on his mouth, before picking up Yuuri’s mug and skipping his way to the kitchen.

❤❤❤❤

Anyone who has met Victor for any amount of time will tell you that he’s not the kind of person who gets nervous, and that’s because Victor is very, very good at faking confidence.

It comes easy, when you already have confidence in spades, when you grew up having praise poured on you like a waterfall, and meeting expectations without much effort. Victor knows exactly what he’s capable of. He knows his limits and he knows how to push past them. But he still gets nervous like everyone else, contrary to popular belief.

Most people don’t even put into question whether or not Victor gets nervous. They know the answer is no. Luckily for Victor, Yuuri isn’t most people.

Victor has to present his thesis in his third language that he doesn’t completely dominate yet in about thirty minutes, and he’s switched outfits at least five times and reorganized his notes at least ten.

Yuuri is sat cross-legged on Victor’s bed, watching him move around and fret, Makkachin settled comfortably on his lap. He makes a cute image, with his notebook settled lightly on top of Makkachin’s torso, text book open beside him and a pen tucked behind his ear.

“Vitya,” he calls, just as Victor opens his closet’s door for the sixth time. “Come here.”

Victor hesitates. He almost says no, but there’s something in Yuuri’s voice that didn’t really leave space for a no, and there’s something in Victor that wants to be settled by Yuuri’s hands on him.

So he climbs onto the bed and drapes himself over Yuuri, who readily wraps his arm around him.

“I don’t need to tell you that you’re going to do amazing, because you know this. You’ve been preparing for this for months. You’ll do so well they’ll offer to publish you on the spot. But of course you know all this,” Yuuri says, petting a hand through Victor’s hair. Victor laughs nervously, clinging to Yuuri. “And I know it’s going to go well because I’m going to give you an ace up your sleeve.” Yuuri’s voice is conspiratory.

“An ace up my sleeve?” Victor asks, a laugh still in his voice.

“A lucky charm,” Yuuri says solemnly. “There’s no way anything bad can happen if you have a lucky charm with you.”

To be completely honestly, Victor finds that a little ridiculous, but he’d shove his hand in a blender quicker than he would tell Yuuri that.

“Okay, give me a lucky charm then,” he says.

Yuuri takes the pen from behind his ear and grabs Victor’s hand, turning it so his palm his facing up.

Victor watches as Yuuri carefully draws a heart on the inside of his wrist with a perfect little circle around it. He looks at it for a second, before he brings Victor’s wrist to his lips and kisses it.

“There, a lucky charm. I put all my love in it, so nothing can go wrong now,” Yuuri says, and Victor never knew he could feel this full with adoration and love. It expands his chest and makes his heart ache a little.

“I love you,” Victor says, and what he means is thank you but that serves just as well.

Yuuri smiles one of his softest smiles, and there’s a gentle blush dusting his cheeks. The whole affair is a little ridiculous and they can both recognize that, but that Yuuri still went through with something as silly and sweet and thoughtful as this to try to settle Victor’s nerves is _everything_ to him.

“I love you too,” Yuuri says, and that more than anything gives Victor strength.

That’s the first time Yuuri does that for him. It becomes a habit. When Victor is feeling stressed out or has something important coming up, he’ll go to Yuuri, hand him a pen and ask for a lucky charm. Yuuri always does it with a fondness and adoration that could be seen from miles away, and every time he draws a heart in a circle and kisses it for Victor.

Victor considers having it tattooed on him, but then decides that would defeat the purpose a little bit.

The point is the act of Yuuri doing it, the point is Yuuri putting his love into Victor again and again and again.

From that day onward, Victor faces every major event in his life with a heart drawn on his wrist.

❤❤❤❤❤

By their second winter together, Yuuri’s moved in with him, and Victor couldn’t be happier.

He loves having Yuuri around all the time. He loves waking up to him and going to bed with him, he loves that they’ve developed a routine and little habits around each other. He loves the distracted kisses Yuuri drops on him whenever he walks by Victor, he loves that their clothes share a space in the closet, he loves to have most of his meals with someone else.

There’s something incredibly intimate and comfortable about sitting across the table from someone and catching up on their day.

It’s Christmas Eve today, not that Victor cares much for that sort of stuff, but last year Yuuri and him had spent the day baking a cake and taking a walk to see the Christmas lights, and Victor wants to do it again this year. He wants to develop little traditions with him that will last for years to come.

He’s set out all the ingredients on the counter, along with the recipe they’ll be using, more than ready to start, except he can’t start without Yuuri and Yuuri is late.

Victor’s starting to get worried when he hears the front door open, closely followed by Makkachin’s nails clicking on the floor as she zooms across the apartment to greet Yuuri. Victor follows at a much more sedated pace, waiting for Yuuri to give Makka some pets to calm her down, before he swoops in and kisses him hello.

“You’re late,” he says.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, and gives him another kiss, a little off-center, as an apology. “This took longer to find than I thought it would.” He holds a plastic bag up, and Victor tries to peer into it.

“Oh?” he asks, suddenly curious.

Yuuri grins and takes out a heart-shaped cake tin. “I thought we could do something different this year.”

“Yuuri, that’s so cute,” Victor coos.

Yuuri looks so smugly pleased with himself that Victor just _has to_ drop a kiss on his nose, before he starts herding him towards the kitchen.

Victor loves baking with Yuuri, but then again Victor loves doing almost everything with Yuuri. He loves just existing around him, he loves the scrunch of his eyebrows when he’s trying to figure something out, the way his tongue pokes out of his mouth, he loves how he laughs when Victor smears a dollop of batter on his cheek and giggles when Victor licks it off.

He loves how Yuuri clings to his back as Victor works, peering over his shoulder to make sure Victor is doing it well, and he loves licking the remnants of the batter off the mixing bowl when the cake is already in the over.

The cake turns out well, and they decorate it with strawberries.

It tastes delicious, especially after Yuuri had whipped up one of his mom’s favourite recipes.

It tastes even sweeter when Victor kisses the taste out of Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri laughs and has to push him back before he gets carried away.

“None of that, we have to go see the lights,” he says.

Victor moves in again, “Can’t we do that tomorrow?”

Yuuri puts a finger on his lips, halting his motions.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ sharply on his tongue. “We also need to walk Makka, so.”

Victor can’t really argue with that, so he sighs, long-sufferingly. “I suppose if we _must_.”

Yuuri laughs at him, and drops a kiss on his cheek, quickly moving away so Victor can’t try to start something again.

💞

The lights are beautiful.

Victor and Yuuri walk hand in hand down the street, following the path the lights strung above them make. They’re lazy and unhurried, talking about everything and nothing at all as they walk.

Victor loves this too, the casual intimacy of it, the way there are so many other couples out tonight, sharing the beauty of it.

In Japan, Christmas is a holiday for lovers, and Victor adores it. They haven’t even decided to head back home and he’s already eager to do this again next year.

Yuuri’s hand is shaking in his so Victor puts their joined hands in his pocket, making Yuuri walk that little bit closer to him, and Yuuri looks over at him with fondness crinkling the corners of his eyes, even if there’s something slightly off about it.

They’ve been walking for a while and every ten minutes or so, Yuuri will check the time on his watch.

“It’s getting late,” Victor says, worried that Yuuri isn’t enjoying himself as much as Victor is. “Do you want to go home?”

“No,” Yuuri rushes out, a little too fast. And then slower, calmer, he repeats, “No, not yet. I want to walk a little bit more.”

“Okay,” Victor says, a frown creasing his eyebrows.

Yuuri squeezes his hand, and shuffles even closer to him, which settles Victor a little bit.

But seven minutes later Yuuri is glancing at his watch again, and suddenly steering Victor toward one of the biggest light exhibits around. He glances at his watch again as they come to a stop, and Yuuri stands in front of Victor holding both of his hands.

“Yuuri?” Victor prompts, confused.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, glances at his watch again.

“Um, it’s the twenty-fifth now, so happy birthday, Victor,” he says, and Victor goes soft.

“Is that what you were so worked up about? Wishing me a happy birthday?” Victor asks, a little amused.

“Ah, well,” Yuuri says, laughing nervously, and lets go of one of Victor’s hands to reach into his pocket. “I got you a gift.”

“I don’t need any-“ Victor starts saying, and what he means to say is _I don’t need anything aside from you_ , but then he sees the ring box Yuuri just took out of his pocket and his words die in his throat.

His heart is suddenly hammering in his chest. They’ve talked about getting married a lot, more than any two people who’ve been dating for just two years probably do, but they’ve talked about it.

Yuuri looks up at him and he looks terrified and he looks incredibly in love and determined and Victor adores him so much his chest fills up to bursting with it.

“Victor,” Yuuri starts, popping open the box.

“Yes!” Victor says immediately, unable to contain his excitement as soon as he sees the rings inside.

Yuuri laughs a little, nervous but happy.

“Victor-“ he starts again, and Victor can’t stand this, he cannot stand this. He has never had a wedding ring on his finger, but he suddenly feels like his hand is too light, like he should be wearing it already.

“Yes, my answer is yes, I’ll marry you!” he says, excitedly and tackles Yuuri into a kiss.

Yuuri laughs against his mouth as he kisses back, before gently pushing him back. “You haven’t even let me ask yet,” he says, huffing out in mock exasperation, but his eyes are sparkling too much, he’s smiling too widely for it to be even a little bit believable.

“Ah, sorry, sorry, I got excited. You can ask,” Victor says, holding himself back, but only just barely.

“Victor,” Yuuri starts again, and Victor will never not be amazed by how much love and adoration Yuuri can fit in his name. “Did you know when you smile it looks like a heart? That’s the first thing I noticed about you when I first saw you. You were cooing over a dog, and I think I fell in love on the spot. It made me want to get to know you better, and as soon as I did I knew that you were either going to break my heart or I’d marry you. And well, it’s been two years, and you haven’t broken my heart yet. Far from it.

“Every day I’m with you, every day you allow me to love you as best as I know how is a privilege. There are no words to describe how grateful I am for you, for knowing you, for being allowed to love you. And whenever I think of a future you’re always in it.

“I love you so much, and if you’ll let me I want to keep loving you for the rest of my life. So, Victor Nikiforov, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Victor says, and this time it’s wetter, throat clogged up with emotion. And this time it’s Yuuri who kisses him, so achingly full of feeling, that Victor can feel his cheeks getting wet.

When he pulls back he’s beaming, and he’s crying, and he looks the happiest Victor’s seen him, and Victor still cannot believe how loved he is by such a wonderful person.

“Put the ring on me,” Victor says, demands almost.

“Oh, right,” Yuuri says, cheeks flushing, as he carefully takes one of the rings out of the box, and slides it on Victor’s ring finger in his right hand.

Victor admires it for a second, feeling like he’s about to start openly bawling in the street. “I’m never taking this off again,” he says solemnly, in awe of it. And then he takes the box from Yuuri and takes the other ring out.

Yuuri holds his hand out, and lets Victor slide the ring on his finger. His hands are still shaking, but the adoration on his face is steady.

“I bought two because I thought you’d want us to match,” Yuuri says, and stares down at his own hand a little in awe.

“You know me so well,” Victor says and sweeps Yuuri into his arms for another grand kiss.

When they pull back they’re both beaming, Victor can feel the cold metal of the ring against his cheek where Yuuri has been cradling him.

He feels Yuuri sweep his thumb over his cheekbone, eyes skittering all over Victor’s face as if he’s trying to commit him to memory.

“Happy birthday, Vitya,” he says, sweet and achingly soft, and leans over for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> happy bday vitya here's a wholeass husband as your present!!!
> 
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